


Eyes on the Stars

by fenfyre (Jace)



Series: The very Fabric of our Universe [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Camping, Cats, Comedy, D/s undertones, Exhibitionism, Fluff, Gaming, Intelligence Test, M/M, Masturbation, One Shot Collection, Public Sex, Punk Jean, Smut, Student!Marco, Voyeurism, alternative universes, awkward first meetings, bookstore owner Marco, bubble baths, dentist!Marco, oblivious!Jean, pining!Marco, student!Jean, surgical assistant!Jean, too much laughing gas whoops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-07 10:59:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4260849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jace/pseuds/fenfyre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of One Shots inspired by AU ideas found on Tumblr<br/>Mostly JeanMarco, sometimes with a side of Eren</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Car Confusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have the same car as my best friend and I got into your car by accident I’m so sorry please just go back to your sandwich

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also posted on my tumblr: [fenfyre](http://fenfyre.tumblr.com/)

Jean might just have had the longest day of his academical career so far.  
Ten hours of lectures and lab nonstop were hard to manage every Thursday as it was. But throw Jäger and a not even half finished, almost due project into the mix and watch his sanity slowly crumble.

As if this particular day couldn’t get any worse it started raining the second he set foot out of the building. It wasn’t even the light sort of rain, the sort that was annoying but tolerable. No. Of course Jean could not be dealing with anything but thick drops that drenched his thin shirt in no time.  
He barely resisted kicking the trashcan he passed in favor of speeding up. The parking lot wasn’t too far from this part of campus.  
Maybe he could make it before the rain soaked right through his tattered backpack and ruined this day’s work. That thing had definitely seen better days. It wouldn’t put up much of a fight against the rain. Not against that kind of rain anyway.

Jean fell into a quick jog. There weren’t many things he would voluntarily exercise for, but four hours worth of lab notes were among them. Not to mention that pathetic sliver of progress he and Eren had made today. Between shouting matches and sulky silence that is.  
A colorful curse left his lips when he reached the parking lot and spotted Sasha’s violet Prius almost all the way to the back. The lot was practically empty and water just started dripping from his hair into his eyes. The least she could do was get over here, dammit!

With a defeated sigh Jean set to a quick sprint. He could at least try to save what was left of his notes by now.  
When he finally reached the car he flung the door open and threw himself inside, wrestling the backpack off his shoulders and shoving it between his knees.  
“Goddammit Sasha, what the fuck?!”, he hissed as he fumbled with the zipper and pulled it open. “Next time I ask you to pick me up, just punch me in the face if you’re going to be an asshole about it anyway.”

The papers he’d had shoved into the backpack were a little wet around the edges but his notes were legible. Well, as legible as when he had taken them. “Thank god. Ugh”, he huffed, closing his eyes and slumping into the seat. “This day. Fuck this day. I mean it. I never ever want to live through another Thursday again. I can handle four hours of Shadis’s lab but give me another two of Jäger and I’m out. I was so close to actually breaking his fucking nose, I swear.”  
Another groan left him, low and drawn out and a little on the dramatic side. But he was allowed to emphasize the sheer amount of his suffering. “Just get me somewhere I can eat, I’m fucking starving.”

“Uhm … ex-excuse me?” Jean’s eyes snapped open in irritation. That timid voice was not Sasha’s. Now that he came to think about it, Sasha would’ve slapped him with something edible halfway into his monologue. Which left the question … who exactly was he whining to? He hesitated a second before turning his head.

It was a … well, a dude. At least Jean didn’t scare some poor freshman girl with his intrusion. Even though the guy looked rather startled. As well as oddly handsome. Brown Bambi eyes wide open, dark hair tousled, mouth slightly ajar and … was that a smear of dressing or something on his cheek?  
Oh right, he was clutching a sandwich between his hands, frozen halfway towards his mouth.

“Oh … oh fuck, I’m sorry. I just … my friend has the same car and with the rain and all I didn’t … sorry man. Ahh, you got something on your…” He gestured toward his cheek and watched the guy wipe the dressing away with the back of his hands. “Yeah, there. It’s gone. Uhm, sorry again. I’m just gonna … yeah. Sorry.” Jean stuffed his notes into his backpack, then moved to open the door again.

“Wait…”, the guy said, voice a little unsure. “It’s pouring. You can stay until your friend gets here.” Jean blinked, hand still on the handle but not opening the door. “I-if you want to”, he rushed to add, a tiny, warm smile tugging at his lips.  
Jean looked between him and the raindrops landing heavily on the windshield and shrugged. He might as well not risk ruining his notes at this point if he already made it this far.

“Yeah, sure. Thanks man!” The other boy smiled even wider now. As the skin around his eyes crinkled Jean just noticed the freckles that were dusted across the bridge of his nose and spattered along his cheekbones. Charming.  
“I’m Marco”, he grinned, wiping a hand on his jeans and offering it across the console.  
“Jean”, he supplied right back and grasped the warm fingers.  
Twenty minutes later Jean changed between identical cars. Half a sandwich in his stomach and a number in his phone.


	2. Cornflakes Combat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We’re both at the grocery store at 3 am and you offered to arm wrestle me for the last box of cereal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also posted on my tumblr: [fenfyre](http://fenfyre.tumblr.com/)

The drive over to the store had passed in an energy drink fueled blur. Though walking would have taken Marco only about five minutes longer he didn’t want to walk. But that was okay. He was allowed to not wanting to walk.

This weekend was reserved solely for lazing around and giving his dusty PlayStation some overdue love. Come Monday he’d be slaving over his desk again but not this glorious Saturday night.  
This night and all of tomorrow he had given himself permission to be as lazy and childish as he wanted. Taking his car to the closest store to get some Froot Loops at 3AM qualified as both.

Being able to go shopping at night would never stop feeling like a novelty to him.  
Since he’d moved from tiny Jinae to Trost about a year ago he’d gotten used to many things. Namely navigating the intricate subway network on the way to his lectures and always feeling some degree of tired during the semester.  
The eery quiet of a shop he only knew bustling with life wasn’t one of them.

Granted, he tended to spend what few hours were left of his nights asleep in bed and very seldom stocking up on groceries. Even though he liked strolling down the aisles like this. Soft music trickling from the tinny speakers, only a handful of people scattered across the store, no rush. It felt oddly peaceful.  
He found his target without getting distracted and reached for the box of Froot Loops – the last one, thank god – when…

“No way, dude. Shit’s mine!” The voice was too loud in the stillness of the otherwise empty aisle and as sudden as the hand slapping Marco’s away. It snatched the box right from the shelf. For a few seconds Marco was perplexed enough to just stare at the now empty space.  
Then he lifted his gaze to look at the other person who was now taking a step back. Despite the defensive move the guy’s eyes had an aggressive spark to them. Cradling the box of cereal to his chest he took another step back, darkening his glare.  
Marco blinked.

This was the point he should smile, excuse himself and reach for the second-best option. Cheerios, most likely.  
But this was his monthly weekend of decadence where he was allowed to spoil himself rotten. No spoiling himself without Froot Loops.

Besides, there was something about that guy. He was dressed in light green scrubs and white sneakers. The hair he wore in an interesting undercut style was mussed, shadows under his clever brown eyes spoke of exhaustion.  
The way he was clutching the box, still glowering and leaning away from Marco made him seem like a petulant child. It was rather endearing in fact.

“Sorry but I believe that’s mine”, Marco smiled and slowly extended his hand. Like he would with a frightened animal. The guy actually looked like he was about to run off any second.  
“Nope.” Oh god he made the P pop, precious. Marco wanted to wrap him in a blanket. Instead he just tilted his head to the side and smiled a little wider. “I saw it first!”, the guy whined and Marco couldn’t suppress a snicker at that. Petulant child indeed.

Something about his reaction apparently made the other snap out of it, he relaxed his posture and shook his head a little. When he spoke again it was less whiny and more tired.  
“Ugh, I’m sorry man. Long night at the hospital.” Marco lowered his outstretched hand but took a little step closer. The other guy let him.

“Are you a doctor?”  
“Surgical assistant”, was the curt answer. Then he added with a little shake to the box now hanging at his side: “This is still mine, though.”  
Marco just grinned at that and shook his head, taking another step forward until they were at a more conversational distance.  
“I really don’t think so.” Maybe it was that bratty attitude that made it impossible for Marco to just let the issue slide. That was most likely also the reason he wanted to take the guy home and fuck him senseless. Whoops, time to get his mind out of the gutter.

“Okay…”, the other groveled, staring at the Froot Loops in his hand, brows furrowed. “Okay, I got an idea. Follow me.” He went off and Marco had his problems clambering after him with that little warning. He caught up rather quickly, though.

“I’m Jean, by the way.” Those thin lips curled deliciously around the soft syllable. Mind, gutter. “And I’m challenging you, Freckles.”  
“Marco”, he supplied hastily right as they stopped next to the frozen-food department.  
“Marco. Arm wrestling, here and now. Winner gets the Loops.” Jean placed the box on the freezer with a dramatic rattle and rounded it. Then bend over to stem his elbow into the glass.

Marco could only stare again for a moment. But he would be damned if he let this opportunity slide. So he also bent over the freezer to grasp Jean’s cool hand.  
“On three”, the other grinned and wiggled a single eyebrow at Marco who giggled at that. “One, two…” Again the wiggle, god he was cute. “Three!”

Marco won within seconds. The feeble attempt at a fight Jean put up were just no match for his years of sibling experience. He tried to not be too harsh about it, though.  
Jean was rubbing at his wrist nonetheless.  
“Aww maaaaan!”, he whined. “You totally cheated!” With that tone and the longing glances he directed at the lost Fruit Loops … Marco really had to focus his mind on something other than how that ass would look when Jean was thrown over his knee.

“Free mornings without Froot Loops suck…”, Jean sulked and crossed his arms. The only thing missing was a pout. Marco really wanted to go over there and kiss his frown away. He opted for pushing the box towards Jean instead.  
“If you really want it that bad, it’s yours”, he smiled and watched that angular face light up with glee, bony hands grabbed the box and held it close once again.  
“Really? But … but the bet!”  
“Wasn’t a bet, just a challenge”, Marco shrugged. “Enjoy your breakfast, Jean.” With a wink he turned away, heart beating just a little faster than usual. But he needed to get out of here before he did something stupid. Like asking if maybe Jean wanted to come back to his place and eat breakfast together. After a night that left both of them exhausted.

He had just grabbed a box of Cheerios and was on his way to the cashier when Jean caught up with him.  
“Hey, I uh … I don’t know how… Look. I feel bad about the Froot Loops. You won. They’re yours.” Jean stuffed the box into his arms without further ado. “But … You’re just so damn nice, you know? You’re the first one to ever take me up on the stupid arm wrestling and…”  
“So that’s a regular thing for you?”, Marco asked with a laugh. He could not believe that guy.  
“Maybe…?”, Jean murmured, amber eyes cast downward and a hand raised to distractedly play with a strand of his messy hair. “No, not really. But still, you’re pretty cool. Was nice meeting you, Marco.”

With that Jean turned on his heel and walked away again. A little too slow, though.  
Marco watched his back, the way he shuffled on tired legs. Then decided hey, it was the weekend of decadence. He wasn’t the only one who deserved to be spoiled. Stuffing the box of Cheerios onto a random shelf he began a casual half-jog up the aisle.

“Jean!” The other’s reaction was immediate. He turned around, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Since you’re free tomorrow morning, how about we share? Until then I have energy drinks and leftover pizza and the Witcher three on pause…” As well as a nice big bed with a heap of blankets and a pair of handcuffs your bratty ass might just love … he doesn’t add.  
Jean’s nod is already enthusiastic enough.  
“Sounds perfect.”


	3. Pub Policies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I walked in on you having a quickie in a public place and you caught me staring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also posted on my tumblr: [fenfyre](http://fenfyre.tumblr.com/)

It wasn’t often that Marco went out drinking. Most of his friends shared his preference for simply lounging around at someone’s apartment, watching movies, talking and playing games.  
Those were perfectly good evenings and he’d probably never get tired of spending his time that way.

Hanging out at crowded, smoky bars was much too stressful when alcohol wasn’t his forte anyway. He just didn’t like the taste.  
The only acceptable drinks were those that masked the strong tang with lots of juices and sirups and pretty colors and straws. Those were luckily also available without alcohol at all.

Luckily, because Marco also couldn’t hold his liqueur. At all.  
Today was no exception. They had gathered at a local pub to celebrate Mina’s birthday and she had bought some bottles of sweet red wine for them to share. After only about two glasses – to is defense, it had been pretty big glasses – Marco was more than just a little tipsy. He was still on the good side, though. Bubbly and giggly and a little red-faced. Wine always got to his head this fast. Especially the light and sweet kind that tasted amazing with pizza and kept him sipping when they were long finished with the meal.  
He switched to water soon after that, dreading the headache he’d get the next morning if he kept this up.

Another downside of alcohol was the constant need to use the bathroom. He was visiting the pub’s restroom for the third time this evening already, which really wasn’t a pleasant experience. At least it was spinning a little too much for him to take in any details.

When Marco exited again he wanted to return to his table but a noise from down the hall caught his attention. It sounded vaguely distressed, a curse maybe. In it’s current, hazy state Marco’s brain only supplied one course of action. His default, so to speak: Go checking if someone needed help.  
It wasn’t even too far-fetched. He was at a bar, people got drunk and started hitting on and harassing other people. If he could put a stop to one of these incidents, he’d be happy to help.

Rounding the corner he didn’t see anyone at first but walking down the hallway he heard the noise again, as well as another, hushed voice. It seemed to come from one of the supply rooms.  
The door was already slightly ajar and Marco didn’t think before he reached out to open it further.  
Had his mind been working a little quicker, accessed the situation a little better, he’d be on his way back to their table right the second he glanced into the room. As it was he found himself frozen to the spot. With nothing to do but stare.

In the poor lighting of the room he could make out two men leaning against a wall in a rather … compromising position. The smaller one seemed to be that cute, enthusiastic waiter with the vibrant green eyes. His face was currently buried against the other person’s neck, though, so Marco couldn’t tell for sure. The other man was a guest Marco had seen sitting a few tables over. He was holding the waiter up, one hand at his hip, the other supporting one of the bare legs wrapped around his waist.  
Tight black jeans were pushed down to his thighs, revealing pale skin and the swell of a really nice ass.

Even from his position in the hallway Marco could see the man was fully buried inside the waiter, letting him clutch at his shaggy blond hair and dark red button down.  
They were still for a few moments, breathing harshly, little, muffled groans escaping the waiter as he squirmed in the others arms. Then the man shifted his weight, leaning heavily against him now and trapping him against the wall, beginning to move.

The view Marco had, even with as little light as there was, qualified as obscene. He could see the way that man slowly slid out of the waiter, thick and glistening, eyes closed to completely savor the feeling.  
A whisper of a name left his lips, dark voice forming the syllables “Oh, Eren…” as he built a steady rhythm.

The noises were almost as lewd as the sight, the soft slap of skin on skin, rustling of clothes and an obscene squelch whenever they came together again.  
“Ah haa Jean!” The waiter’s moans got louder with every deep thrust until he freed one of his hands and sucked three of his fingers into his mouth to muffle the noise.

“Heh”, the man – Jean – panted. “Don’t want anyone to find us?” With that his eyes snapped open and immediately focused on Marco. Like he’d known about him form the start. Maybe he had.  
It wasn’t like it mattered. Not when those stunning ember eyes pinned him in place more firmly than his brief shock ever had. Not when Marco suddenly became painfully aware of how hard he was just from watching them.  
Marco wanted to run but his knees felt too weak and the ice dumped into his veins left him numb but for the shameful throbbing between his legs.  
The hallway was tilting, spinning around him, but that intense stare was enough to keep him on his feet.

The few seconds they gazed at each other stretched into a tiny infinity between them. A thousand thoughts shot through Marco’s head what the other man might do now, that he had caught Marco’s rude intrusion.  
He never would have guessed what the other man actually did.

Without losing his rhythm for a second, his thin, glistening lips pulled into a wolfish, almost evil grin full of teeth. His eyes sparked with mischief and excitement as he leaned forward to rest his forehead against the wall right net to Eren’s. Blocking Marco’s view of the waiter but never breaking eye contact.  
Tongue flicking out to lick his lips he sped up the pace.

Marco felt dirty still watching this even after getting caught. Like a barely invited and merely tolerated guest. But that intense gaze kept him by the door, kept him close and hard and wanting. Wanting to step into the room with them and kiss that dangerous, sinful grin, card his fingers through Eren’s sweaty bangs and replace the waiter’s finger with his own.  
He couldn’t, so he didn’t. But oh, did he want to…

“Gonna come, Eren…” He read the words more from those lips than he heard them. Watching in awe as Jean reached down with one hand to wrap it around Eren’s cock that was hidden between their clothes.  
“Come with me, yeah?” The words should have been for the waiter but Marco felt just as addressed. He couldn’t … could he? No.

“G-gonna … gonna..”, Jean gasped, eyes glossing over and movements turning erratic as he slammed himself into the willing, writhing body of the moaning waiter.  
The second he lost it his eyes slid shut, breaking the spell on Marco.

He took off down the hall and into the bathroom as quickly as his wobbling legs would let him.  
Twenty minutes later he was sitting with his friends again, shame and the warmth of a fantastic orgasm spreading through him in equal measures. And he thought this was it. That he’d have to live with the memory of getting off watching two strangers fuck in public like some creep. But at least this would be the end of the story.

Marco hadn’t counted on a certain stranger with shaggy blond hair and a rumpled, red button down approaching him and slipping him a piece of paper with a wolfish grin. Neither did he expect their waiter to start winking at him all cute and playful all of a sudden while Marco was blushing like a teenager. He would most likely never hear the end of this from his friends.

It was only later, when he was surrounded by the security of his own apartment that he pulled the slip of paper from his pocket. There were telephone numbers scrawled across it, two of them. As well as a short message:

_Hey Stranger,_  
_fancy having such a hot audience. Wanna join in next time?_

_Jean &Eren_


	4. Bathtub Blunder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I sent a selfie of myself in the tub to the wrong number and you responded back with another selfie. Holy shit you’re really attractive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also posted on my tumblr: [fenfyre](http://fenfyre.tumblr.com/)

It was no secret that Marco Bodt loved college.  
He loved Campus and the cute cafés at every corner, loved the way he could make his own schedule without anybody meddling in his business, loved his new friends who were loyal and hilarious and so very interesting, loved his new freedom and autonomy and of course the tiny apartment just off Campus that was the coziest thing he’d ever had the pleasure of decorating.  
He loved everything about his new lifestyle and never got tired of sharing how happy he was.

Most of the time Marco could be seen holding his phone, typing short messages or snapping pictures of whatever had caught his attention.  
His younger sisters, Julietta and Alessia should both have overflowing folders by now. Pictures over pictures of flowers from the park Marco went jogging, the cafeteria, silly names of books he had to read. Pictures of whatever shenanigans his new friends Connie and Sasha got up to and of course of every corner his apartment had to offer.  
There were no complaints though. The only responses he ever got were squeals of joy, excitement and rarely jealousy. So Marco kept bombarding them.

During the first few months he also developed a whole new fascination with his new bathtub. There hadn’t been one at their small house back home, only a spacy shower.  
Naturally it was one of his first concerns to get acquainted with the powers of that strange new piece of inventory.  
So one evening in late autumn he had come home chilled to the bones, after a long day of lectures and research at the library and decided to see if baths lived up to their reputation.

They did.

It was that evening that Marco discovered a whole new level of relaxation. He had never thought that simply soaking in hot water could be so therapeutic.  
The following winter Marco assembled an impressive collection of bathing oils, bath bombs and all different kinds of additives and essences.  
The vials and bottles began taking over every surface in his bathroom that had once been empty, towering on his cabinet and shelves and window sill.

He was very fond of the ones that left his skin soft and smelling of flowers or exotic fruits. The kind of bath bombs that made the water all colorful and pretty were also very nice.  
But his favorites were the soapy kinds that created a sheer abundance of shimmering bubbles, all soft and tiny.

The bubbles were for Marco’s bad days. For whenever he felt down because he missed his family or felt lonely or had been disappointed. Carding his fingers through them was surprisingly soothing and he enjoyed all the childish things he could do with that many bubbles.  
Like piling them atop his head, smushing them against his face to give himself thick beards or blowing them across the room and pretend he was a powerful wizard who could create snow storms with just his breath.

Today was a bad day.  
A professor he usually liked had given him a bad grade on an essay he had worked really hard for because she felt that ‘he could do better’. Well, obviously not.

The bubbles were a pale pink and smelled of roses. It was a really subtle scent but one that would cling to him for at least a few days after his bath.  
When Marco was still fidgety after almost half an hour of trying to relax into the hot water, he grabbed his phone from the closed toilet seat nearby. No new messages.  
Opening the camera he snapped a few experimental pictures of his bath. The bubbles came out blurry and without contrast, there was no way to tell just how magnificent that mountain of them really looked…

He had another idea. Sliding further down until the first layer of bubbles tickled his chin he piled some of them against the side of his head and tried looking panicked while snapping a selfie. The picture came out good. It looked like the bubbles were positively trying to drown him in their sheer amount, quite silly but also funny. Exactly the kind of silly that would throw Juliette straight into a giggle fit.  
Without much further ado he sent it with the short caption 'HAALP!! \\(°o°)/’ before putting his phone down onto the toilet seat again.

Just a few minutes later it beeped lightly to announce a new message and Marco opened it, expecting some kind of amused response or another from his little sister.  
It wasn’t. From his little sister, that is. Amused … maybe.

There was a guy grinning at him from the screen, head tilted slightly. The grin was crooked, showing off some nice, white teeth and the tiniest bit of a tip of a tongue pressed against them. He had eyes like honey or whiskey or something else that was stupid and attractive, blond hair falling ruffled and sweaty into his face. He seemed to be sweaty all over, there was a light shine to his flushed face and the collarbone that was showing from above the low cut shirt.  
With the headphones dangling from his ears and the trees in the background it seemed like he was jogging somewhere. God, he looked sexy. Defined features, strong jawline, light stubble … and that mischievous glint in his eyes did _things to Marco._

His heart seemed to skip a few beats as he just stared at the picture. Then he went and checked to whom he’d sent his stupid selfie in the first place.  
As he’d thought, it wasn’t Juliette. It was the contact right above her, some guy named Jean Kirschtein. One of the mentors that was supposed to show them around during freshman orientation but never showed up. Marco had meant to delete his number ages ago.

He went back to the conversation and looked at the picture again, this time noticing the caption at the bottom: 'Want me to come save you, cutie?’  
“Yes, please…”, he breathed before he could think about anything else. Staring into those glinting eyes obviously also did thing to his dick. Under every other circumstances Marco’d have been mortified of how pathetic he was. But the last time he got laid was almost a year ago and that dude was smoking hot and sweaty and… well maybe he was a little mortified.

Not mortified enough though to keep him from responding. And neither enough to stop him from slowly letting his free hand trail down his body into the warm water.  
'Theoretically, yes. But how do I know you got what it takes to save me?’ He cringed a little at the line but still sent it. Jean had started with the cheesiness, after all.

Marco had encircled his dick with his hand and already stroked it to full hardness before the other guy responded. But when he did a low moan escaped Marco and he closed his still moving fist a little tighter.

It was another picture but not of his face this time. Jean had pulled his shirt up to reveal what looked like a very well maintained six-pack. The muscles were defined but not too pronounced, so his body remained lean but strong.  
There was a trail of light, dark hair leading from his belly button down to his running shorts.  
Marco practically salivated when another image flashed through his mind. The image of himself, pulling down those shorts and mouthing at what was hidden beneath them.  
'This enough for ya?’

He could practically hear the smugness over the short caption and snickered softly to himself. Never stopping the motion of his one hand, he typed with the other.  
'Maybe…’  
There was not nearly enough capacity left in him to think of a witty comeback. Most of his senses boiled down to the easy, tight slide across his dick, to the little flicks of his wrist that made his arousal spike more quickly than usual. Marco bit his lip, trying to hold back his louder moans for the sake of his neighbors but not being able to suppress the breathy pants of that guy’s name… Pathetic. But oh, he’d surely taste so good…  
The phone in his hand beeped again and he absentmindedly opened the new message.

'So, want me to come over and help you with that bath or not? I could scrub your back…’  
_Or I could suck your dick._  
Marco’s mind supplied helpfully as exactly those images kept flooding him. He was close already, just from this stupid messages and his pathetic phantasy of sucking Mr. Hot Jogger off. He wanted to taste him, wanted to feel the weight of a cock on his tongue and lick over hot, pulsing veins…

Marco shoved the phone aside again and sucked three of his fingers into his mouth instead, closing his eyes as he imagined.  
The orgasm almost caught him off guard when he began spurting into the water. He kept pumping himself, stifling his wanton moans and whimpers until he slumped down in the tub again, exhausted but relaxed. Finally.

It took him some time to pick up his phone again. Mind still hazy and breath still a little short he typed: 'How about coffee first?’  
Jean didn’t need long to answer this time.  
'I can do coffee.’


	5. Cursed Crushes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All I want to do is get over my dumb crush on you, and you’re making it really hard by being so touchy-feely AND FOR GOD’S SAKE STOP WALKING AROUND OUR ROOM NAKED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also posted on my tumblr: [fenfyre](http://fenfyre.tumblr.com/)

Jean Kirschtein wasn’t human. It had taken Marco months of careful observation to come to that simple conclusion.  
There was just no way he could be, with that tight, lean body, pretty face, boundless energy and careless grace. Not to speak of that ridiculous haircut nobody else could even dream of pulling off.

Oh, of course he was far from perfect. Jean had a short temper and tended to hold grudges for longer than was probably healthy, he was arrogant and loud and messy and tactless.  
But that had to be some kind of ploy or another. Because there was nothing that could ever convince Marco that his roommate wasn’t some otherworldly creature sent to earth specifically to torture and test him.

After all, Jean Kirschtein wasn’t just gorgeous with an electric personality. No. He was also obviously, painfully straight. Which made Marco’s embarrassing crush all the more hopeless.

Jean’s half of their shared room was plastered with posters, mostly of obscure bands and old muscle cars. But between those there were also various pin-up posters. Cute female sailors and girls in polka dotted bikinis were smiling from the walls. He seemed to like the 80s vintage style ones.  
Marco had to admit they were quite aesthetically pleasing but he couldn’t see their appeal beyond that.

It had taken him about two weeks after moving into the dorm to come out to Jean. He had wanted to give the other boy an out if he wanted to change rooms after that and spare himself the stress of having to hide his at times flamboyant gay side.  
Usually he wasn’t the stereotypical gay guy but he did have his five minutes now and then and just wanted his new roommate to know what was up with that right from the start.

Some part of him, and it was a rather big part, had prepared for Jean to move out after that particular revelation. To just pack his things, say some really stupid shit and leave.

The other boy, however, wasn’t just short-tempered and messy and occasionally grumpy. He was also accepting and open-minded and incredibly loyal. Surprisingly empathetic, too.  
So the reaction Marco had gotten instead caught him a little off-guard but made him giddy with joy at the same time.

It had been a long, warm hug that soothed his jittery nerves and put him at ease. Jean had told him, in a careful, calm voice, that this would never cause any problems between them and asked Marco to tell him whenever somebody was giving him trouble because of it.  
The hug had lasted much longer than the little speech but hadn’t become uncomfortable. Not in the slightest. Jean also hadn’t needed to assert his heterosexuality after getting comfy with the gay guy. He wasn’t embarrassed or awkward either. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Their hug seemed to have opened some kind of floodgate of physical affection. Jean hadn’t been a hugger before, neither a cuddler, for that matter.  
But during the following weeks he’d slipped ever closer to Marco, leaning against him whenever they watched a movie, ruffling his hair, hugging him hello and goodbye whenever he got the chance, sometimes he even pulled him close without reason at all.

Marco was not opposed to that. Even though it only fed his pathetic crush, getting cozy with Jean on such a natural level was … nice. More than nice.  
What crossed the line of nice and went straight to stressful was that Jean decided, after a few months, he was now as comfortable with Marco as he could be.  
And that in turn meant naked skin. Lots and lots of it.

Almost every time he returned from a shower he’d fling the towel away and strut around for a while completely naked. To dry off before putting on some clothes. And because it felt nice. Of course.  
He had absolutely recognized the fact that just because Marco was gay didn’t mean he’d have the hots for every guy he lay eyes on. Which would have been more than fine. If it weren’t for the fact that Jean was the exception to that rule and Marco did indeed have the hots for him.

Seeing Jean every other day, naked and damp and absolutely glorious made him realize something. He was damned. Whatever he did wrong in his previous life, this was his punishment.  
Constant half-boner and the object of his desire practically flaunting it at him.  
Well, it could have been worse. Or at least that’s what he told himself.


	6. Pervy Patient

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are my dentist and I have the biggest crush on you and one time you give me too much laughing gas so I end up telling you that

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also posted on my tumblr: [fenfyre](http://fenfyre.tumblr.com/)

Going to the dentist surely was no one’s favorite activity. It hadn’t been for Jean, not for the longest time at least.  
His teeth had always caused him problems, they were crooked and had holes in them more often than not, even though he brushed and flossed regularly.

Old doctor Bodt had once told him it had to do with the composition of bacteria in his saliva, that it was much more aggressive than it normally should be and started damaging his dental enamel more quickly.  
At that point it had annoyed Jean to no end that he still wasn’t through with worrying about his teeth after spending the better part of his childhood as well as his whole adolescence wearing all different kinds of braces. That had corrected his teeth to somewhat normal – there were still some gaps but nothing too obvious – but sadly couldn’t change the fact that his own saliva tried digesting them all day.

It actually was a lot less gross than it sounded, he was not contagious or long-suffering or anything. Using special antibacterial mouthwash helped a lot with making him feel less like some hobo who didn’t know what a toothbrush was by keeping the whole milieu relatively clean.  
But even the best hygiene couldn’t save him from his visits to doctor Bodt. The old man had been friendly enough for the 25 years they knew each other. It wasn’t his fault that, due to his condition, Jean had enough memories of bad treatments to last him a lifetime and couldn’t stop himself from panicking whenever he set foot into the practice.

But when old doctor Bodt became, well, too old to manage all the patients on his own and his son began working at the practice as well, something changed.  
Marco Bodt was a very capable, young dentist, specifically trained in dealing with phobic patients, always kind and patient and deserving of all the respect Jean could show him.  
He was also hot as all hell, Italian charm and tight ass included. Jean tried not to be too obvious about his instant crush on the sexy doctor but it was hard when Dr. Bodt Junior took such good care of him.

First of all the treatment room he used for his phobic patients was that much nicer than the one his father had treated Jean in for years. It wasn’t as glaringly white, still somewhat sterile – of course, it was a treatment room, after all – but with nice frilly curtains, colorful pictures on the walls and warmer lighting.  
Marco also switched from injecting the analgetic with that big, scary needle that always made Jean even more nervous, to using laughing gas.  
Sweet and simple, not at all panic inducing and it also gave him some kind of euphoric rush every time, without fail.

It only took three months of gentle coaxing and empathetic care until going to the dentist became Jean’s … well, still not his favorite activity, that would be crazy, but he sure didn’t panic anymore. That had to count as a win.  
The thing was, those three months had also worsened his pathetic crush on the doctor.  
Now when he came into the practice he wasn’t jittery with nerves but with childish glee, excited to see young Dr. Bodt again and chat a little after he’d come out of delirium. Those chats helped him get to know the dentist better than he’d ever expected.

He knew now that Marco Bodt had three younger sisters, but none of them wanted to study medicine. He knew how the man liked his coffee but that he preferred tea, knew which shows he binge watched whenever he had time to do so and that he got most of his tricks from a psychotherapist friend of his.  
They had established that little ritual, the friendly conversation after his treatment, to ground him again when he came to. That way he knew he was still safe and it would all be over soon.

The doctor had talked him through all the small steps they’d take to ensure Jean didn’t get too nervous anymore, explained some of the psychological background to each measure before even taking a single look at his teeth. Jean would’ve had listened to him if it hadn’t been for the fact that this had been their very first encounter and he’d been busy staring at the man.

One day, after the filling of some particularly nasty holes – god that sounded so dirty, now that he was lusting after the dentist like the protagonist of a cheesy porno – Jean felt decidedly more woozy than usual when he slipped back into consciousness.  
His eyes were still closed but the room didn’t always feel like it was spinning around him and his senses were unusually fuzzy.

“Mr. Kirschtein? Can you hear me?”, Dr. Bodt’s gentle voice reached him through the fog in his ears. Jean tried to nod but wasn’t sure if the movement came across as such. “Don’t worry, you’re gonna be fine. I overdosed a little on the laughing gas, I’m so sorry. But there should be no side effects, you’ll just need some more time to adjust.”  
He nodded again, this time more firmly and succeeded in opening his eyes on the second try.

“’s no problem, doc”, he slurred, tilting his head to the side and searching for Dr. Bodt’s silhouette in the dim room. It came into view right next to him, his face illuminated by the warm light, practically glowing. It was a wonderful sight to wake up to.  
Without really thinking about it – he couldn’t do much of that, at this point – Jean slurred the first thing that entered his mind: “Holy shit, you’re gorgeous” He needed another few tries to get his eyes to actually focus, then hummed at the surprised expression. “Mean it. So pretty, doctor…”  
The dark, drawn-up eyebrows lowered again as a kind smile spread across Bodt’s face.

“You’re really out of it, huh?”, he asked and leaned back into his chair a little. “It’s okay, just breathe. You can close your eyes again until the effect wears off.”  
Jean reflexively did as he was told, eyelids slipping shut, but only for a few seconds. Then they fluttered open again. Dr. Bodt didn’t understand, he thought this was some joke, but it wasn’t and Jean had to tell him!  
“Really, Marco! You’re so pretty, so attra …. acttr … jus’ really hot, ‘kay?” Dr. Bodt laughed at that, amusement in his voice but no spark of evil intent when he said:  
“I get it. You’re high, Mr. Kirschtein. We can talk about this when you’re yourself again.”

“I _am_. And _you’re_ hot. Honessly. I’ve liked you since … for months, you know?” Somewhere, deep in the haziness of his mind there were alarm bells going off, telling him that this was not something he should ever share with this man. But they were way too far away right now and he just kind of giggled at his own words. “You’re just so fuggin perfect…”  
Another laugh, this one a little breathy and a quiet, bashful “Thank you.” before they both fell silent. Dr. Bodt was still leaning back in his chair and Jean was still staring adoringly at his cute little smile.

“You know…”, he started again after a while, not that out of it anymore but still loopy enough to utter the following “We should get coffee sometime. Or … tea. Aaand … and you should tell me jokes.” Jean giggled again, the memory how they had once tried out-joking each other crossing his mind, hazy and diffuse. “I … like the way you laugh. You laugh before you’re even finished. Every time. It’s cute.”

His tired eyes could be playing tricks on him but from this angle it looked like Dr. Bodt was blushing.  
“That sounds really nice. But you’re my patient, I’m afraid I’m not allowed to let you take me on a date.” Jean let out a deep sigh at that, shoving his bottom lip forward in the best pout he could muster like this.  
“Not even for tea…?”, he whined. But Dr. Bodt just shook his head, then reached out to squeeze his patient’s hand for a few seconds.  
“I’m sorry. Not even for tea.”

Jean spent this evening burrowed under his blankets, cheeks flaming with embarrassment as the realization that he could never go back to that practice sank in slowly.  
But then, when it was way after midnight, a whole other realization dawned on him. That Marco Bodt hadn’t exactly said no.  
It took him two weeks and a dentist switch to finally get his tea-date. The return of some mild panic attacks every few weeks wasn’t too bad when he had his very own doctor at home to kiss it better afterward.


	7. Beautiful Bookworm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You discreetly come into my bookstore every day just to play with my cat that i let wander. you think i don’t notice, but i totally do. don’t worry; it’s freaking adorable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also posted on my tumblr: [fenfyre](http://fenfyre.tumblr.com/)

Old Trost was as picturesque as it was bustling with life. Lot of charming cafés were littered across the narrow alleys, flower shops emanating sweet, rich smells, street musicians performing at nearly every corner as well as artists selling their paintings or drawing tourists.  
There were cute bakeries and shops selling antique decor and at the hearts of all that, right across the market place, there was Marco Bodt’s bookstore.

It was ancient and full of little nooks and crannies, old shelves lined at every wall, spanning the whole space from floor to ceiling and ready to burst with tightly packed books.  
Those were lined up neatly in the shelves but also stacked on every available surface, spread out on rickety tables, shoved under the antique couch and cushy armchairs, even balanced on the register…

It had already been mostly like this when Marco had bought it from the owner almost three years ago. Messy, but so very cozy.  
The scent of dust and yellowing pages, of fresh ink and worn leather permanently hanging in the air.  
Marco hadn’t changed much since he took over. Switched a few tables that were falling apart and added another armchair, started collecting all kinds of potted flowers and other plants and, of course, installed the kitty door in the back.

That way, Duchess, his gray tabby, was free to roam the shop as well as the small adjacent garden whenever she liked.  
When the weather was nice enough, Marco opened the tiny patio so the customers could go outside and sit on the wooden chairs to read. Most of them came frequently, not always to buy something but to simply retreat for a while and Marco didn’t mind that. He even enjoyed having people curled up with books all over his shop, they made it feel more like home, somehow.

Besides, that way Duchess received a lot more pettings than she usually would. Despite her name she was very trusting and cuddly, always sneaking up on patrons and curling up on their laps if they let her. They mostly did.  
She was half the reason they always returned to Bodt’s, after all. She lured people in all the time.  
They saw her dozing between the books in the display – her favorite place, since the sun was always shining through the big windows – and came in to ask why she lived in a book store, of all things.

Marco always told them the same, she wasn’t. She actually lived back at his apartment a few streets over but wouldn’t stop trailing after him when he left for work. He saw no reason to lock her up all on her own if taking her with him was as easy and bothered no one.

A few weeks ago, Duchess had made a particularly outstanding friend. Usually she needed some time to warm up to new people but this one was definitely an exception.  
He seemed to be an exception in a lot of things. The way he looked was … well, not exactly dangerous but at least a little intimidating. His lower lip alone was pierced in three places, several other piercings glinting in his ears and god only knew what he hid underneath that black leather jacket he always wore. His hair was styled into a messy undercut which he seemed to dye blond at the top and Marco couldn’t decide if it looked ridiculous or hot. But somehow it suited him.

The very first time he stepped into the store Marco had honestly wondered if he’d gotten lost or something. But Duchess had leaped down from the empty armchair she had slept in and rubbed up against his legs, purring and meowing softly.  
That had earned her a very thorough petting, the stranger smiling warmly all the while until he’d noticed Marco watching him with a smile of his own. That had made him stop and practically flee the store.

He had come back nearly every day though, always in the late afternoon when it was relatively empty, and when he did Duchess came running from wherever she had hidden to greet him. He never bought anything, didn’t read either, just played with the cat for a while. Smiling reverently and sometimes even … giggling when she looked especially cute rolling around.  
Marco had gotten better at pretending not to notice after the man left the first times he’d gotten caught. Usually he busied himself with unpacking newly shipped books or sorting through old stacks while sneakily watching that intimidating stranger play with Duchess.

After about two months of this, he decided to take action.  
“You know…”, he hummed, taking a step towards the corner the stranger was kneeling in. He’d been petting the purring cat for quite a while now. The store was empty but for the two of them. And Duchess, of course. “She’s crazy about you. Has been from the start.” The man froze, then shrugged without turning around or looking up.

“She’s … she’s cool”, he muttered and slowly pulled his hand back from her. The cat made an unhappy gurgling noise at that.  
“I mean it, I’ve never seen her practically climb someone as she does with you”, Marco said, voice soft and carefully taking another step forward. The other man got to his feet at his slow approach and turned around. He was a little shorter than Marco and looked … distressed, his fingers curling into loose fists at his sides, shoulders drawn up a little.

“Yes I…” He looked everywhere but at Marco, eyes flitting from the window over to the register and down at the cat now striding around his legs. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have…”  
Marco interrupted him softly: “No, it’s okay! You can come here whenever you want to, even if it’s just to play with Duchess. Actually, I’m pretty sure she’d be offended if you stopped now.”  
The stranger’s eyes finally flicked up to meet his, there was a trace of a grin in them that didn’t quite make it to his lips yet. From up close he was even more handsome. Oddly charming, too, with that almost bashful expression.

“Her name’s Duchess? I’ve wondered…”, he trailed of, leaning down slightly to scratch at her ear which she gave a delighted purr at.  
“You could’ve just asked.” Marco was smiling by now, honest and bright when it looked like the other was loosening up a little. Those amber eyes flitted away for a second again before he looked back at Marco and shrugged again, this time almost a relaxed gesture and a small smile on his lips.  
“Yeah, maybe…”

“I was just about to go back and make some coffee. Would you like a cup?” It was only half a lie. He actually wanted to close up the store before he found the stranger sitting in the corner. But he didn’t want to throw him out, now that they finally had exchanged more than a careful greeting.  
“I…” Again with that nervous flutter of eyes, shoulders hunching up again a little as he took a deep breath. “Yes.”

Marco hadn’t counted on the man actually agreeing but it made his chest flutter with delight. He was itching to get to know what was behind that tough exterior. Because somehow, that intimidating man who walked into his bookstore every day just to play with a cat and being incredibly shy about it … it was the most interesting thing that had happened in here for a while.  
“I’m Marco”, he offered over his shoulders while already turning around and heading for the small kitchen. He just so saw the man bending down to pick Duchess up with impressive tenderness, the cat instantly curling into his chest as he held her close and set off to follow Marco. A relaxed, almost dopey smile spreading across his face as he nuzzled her.  
“Jean.”


	8. Gaming Graciousness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were dragged into my video game competition and I was beat for the first time in years I have to stalk you and beg you to play me until I can beat you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also posted on my tumblr: [fenfyre](http://fenfyre.tumblr.com/)

Every second Thursday of the month it was Tournament Night at the dorm. The TV room was boarded, someone hooked their console onto the flat screen and then everybody voted on what game to play.  
If there were only a few of them, they often settled on some kind of tactical game where the rounds were longer and still interesting enough to watch, but with more than six people they often decided on a fast paced fighting game and just brawled all night.

It was a tradition, had already been established when Jean moved into the dorm and he hadn’t missed a single Tournament since then.  
When the guy who’d organized the whole thing graduated a few months ago, Jean had gladly stepped up to take the job.  
Getting the key for the TV room, asking who’d bring their console and making sure there were at least a few crates of beer to go around wasn’t exactly a job anyway.

Tonight was that Thursday of the month again and the TV room was filled with eager college kids.  
The semester had just started and the Tournament was the perfect opportunity to get to know one’s neighbors a little better. Most of the people had brought drinks and snacks to share and someone even organized a second set of TV and console so more players could compete at once. The atmosphere was relaxed, the room filled with chatter, laughter and the clinking of glasses and Jean was more than contempt with how this evening turned out.  
A big part of his good mood was due to the game that they chose tonight. Mortal Kombat X. They didn’t play that one often anymore, not since everyone who appeared st least semi-regularly to the Tournament had witnessed him, agreed that he was some kind of MK-god and that it ‘just wasn’t fair’.

Luckily, none of the newbies knew that yet … or well, now they did. He only had one more ass to kick and he’d be in the grand finale against the winner of the other sub-tournament.  
The girl he was up against right now, a cute thing with a bushy ponytail named Sasha, had won her previous fights without losing a single health point, sometimes even playing one handed when she was using the other to stuff Pringles into her mouth.

Her style wasn’t unique but effective, lots of dodging and light attacks in quick succession. It was his first real match with a worthy opponent in a while, dragging on and on, the both of them cursing loudly and throwing nasty insults at each other, but of course Jean managed to beat her.  
By the skin of his teeth, shouting profanities all the way, but at the end he finished her Sub-Zero off with a deafening warcry and a bloody fatality on screen.

Screaming in frustration Sasha watched as a sword was thrown through the decapitated head of her character but the next thing Jean knew she was leaping over onto the couch to hug and congratulate him. Then she was off again to scuttle over to the makeshift buffet of snacks.  
This was how these things worked. No grudges allowed. Jean sometimes had his problems with that rule, especially on the nights that Jäger guy joined them, but he always kept it in line. Okay, most of the time he did. When it came to Jäger, all bets were off.

“That was really good”, came a voice from somewhere above him as Jean was reaching for his beer on the coffee table. It was a guy, soft face, kind eyes, nice smile. He was pretty enough and Jean scooted to the side a bit, so he could sit. Okay, maybe pretty was an understatement … from up close that dude was practically gorgeous.  
“Thanks, man, she was great. If the other winner is anything like her I’m not sure I can do it again”, he joked lightly, taking a sip of his beer. Sure, the round against Sasha had been tough but whatever the other group sent him over, he was sure he could handle it. He was unbeaten at any kind of Mortal Kombat since what, three years? Four? That was not a streak he planned on breaking tonight.

“That would be me, then”, gorgeous dude smiled and raised his own beer to clink it against Jean’s. “To a good game, huh?” Jean’s surprise only lasted for a second, then he could only chuckle. Already reaching for the controller again he shook his head as most of the people gathered around them to watch the final round.  
“You’re gonna get your ass handed to you, pretty boy.”

Jean lost that game. He wasn’t even close to winning. That guy didn’t even give him the mercy of a 2-1. No, it ended in a bloody mess of 2-0. Jean slunk out of the room before his character’s face was eaten.

It took Jean two days to find out who that guy was and where he lived. Reiner told him the name, Marco Bodt, the rest was just a matter of searching through the dorm’s register and finding the right room. That sounded a lot more creepy than it actually was.  
He wanted a rematch. He _needed_ a rematch. For his honor as a gamer. And maybe also his dignity as a mentally five-year-old. At least that’s what he told Marco when he knocked on his door the following weekend. The first part, not the second.

“Listen I know how this sounds but I … just one round, Marco, please. I’ll leave you alone after that, just one round.” He was sure if he just got another chance he could beat that guy and move on but it didn’t look too good for his honor. Marco was dressed up and seemed to be almost ready to go. His hair was still a little damp and his shirt wasn’t buttoned all the way, showing off a flash of tan collarbone. It was a tiny bit distracting.

“I’m really sorry … Jean, was it? But I was just about to leave…”  
“A single round and you can, come on. My room’s just two floors down. It’s practically on the way!” Silence. Silence and an uncomfortable wiggle from the guy standing in the doorway. “Or we can do it right here if you want, you got the game, right? Of course you do, you’re – ”  
“I’m really sorry”, Marco somehow managed to interrupt him politely. “Maybe some other time. I have to go now. I mean … I’m sure you can come with? We’re just going out drinking but…”  
“No, it’s okay.” Jean didn’t want to go drinking. He wanted to clean this dirt stain from his flawless streak. But it looked like that had to wait.

Exactly four days later he bumped into Marco again on campus. It actually was pure chance but to the guy it must have looked suspicious after that stunt on Saturday. However, Jean didn’t hesitate to address the issue again.  
“Come on, dude. You kicked my ass with _Mileena_. You can’t expect me to just sit there and take _that_!”  
“I … I told you I have class now”, Marco stuttered, eyes a little unsure as he was clasping his coffee cup in one hand, a small notebook in the other. There were glasses balanced on the bridge of his nose now, simple and black rimmed, he looked cute that way. A little nerdy, a whole lot of hot.

“Oh fuck class, it’s not mandatory anyway, come on.” Jean knew very well his persuasion skills were more than a little rusty but he didn’t expect Marco to just _turn away_ like that.  
“I’m sorry.” And he was gone.

The next time he found Marco a little more deliberately, lounging in the bistro that coffee cup had come from while going through notes on his classes. After only about two hours of looking up every few minutes he spotted the brunette waiting in line and practically pounced on him.  
Yes, this was a little extreme. But giving up just wasn’t in his vocabulary.

“Marcoooo heey! Tonight, you and me, my Playstation. How about it?” Marco took one look at him, closed his eyes and raised one hand to cover his face. That wasn’t a good reaction. Shit, had Jean gone too far? Was he harassing the dude? He should back off already, shouldn’t he? Jean was already taking a careful step back when it happened.  
Marco started giggling. It seemed so out of place that Jean didn’t even recognize the sound at first. He did, though, when it turned into a full out laugh. If the dude was gorgeous usually, he was even more so when laughing like this, open mouth showing white teeth, the corners of his eyes crinkling, nose crunching up. Jean wanted to kiss him. Wait, what?

“You sure don’t give up, do you? Alright, I’ll kick your ass again. Tonight at eight okay?” This was … not something Jean had expected.  
“Yeah, I mean … yes, sure. Uh, I’m room 215…”  
“I’ll be there. You’re going down, Jean.”

At exactly eight o'clock Marco knocked on his door. He proceeded to kick Jean’s ass, as promised. Seven times in a row. But for some reason, Jean wasn’t too bothered by that.  
Oh, he pretended he was. The hope he could somehow restore his winning streak by beating Marco had long since died and he had a lot of reasons to be salty about that. But he wasn’t, not really.  
Not when Marco’s adorable giggle sounded through the room every time his character ripped Jean’s apart and ate his flesh. It was gorey and kind of humiliating, there was no reason for that warm flutter in his chest every time Marco grinned at him when he hit rematch. But there it was. And Jean was completely okay with that, Okay with everything.

After his ninth brutal death, Marco paused the game and smiled at him. Not a half-mocking smile like the ones before. No, this one was warm and kind and gentle. Reassuring.  
“I’m really glad you didn’t just run away again”, he snickered, only a hint of amusement in his voice.  
“Y-yeah…?”, Jean croaked back. Something in that smile made him nervous. It was a good kind of nervous.

“Yeah.” Marco put the controller down onto the floor and fully turned to Jean, then. Head cocked a little to the side, that smile still playing at his lips. “Are you gonna kiss me anytime soon?”  
For a second, neither of them even dared to breathe and Jean swore his heart just skipped a beat.

Then it all happened at once. Jean practically threw himself at Marco, arms wrapping around his slim waist as their lips collided a little on the rough side, Marco’s hands grasped at him, fisted in his hair and shirt as he was thrown back onto the bed by the impact, whining softly into Jean’s mouth as they nipped at each other playfully before returning to bruising kisses again.  
They didn’t resume their game that night. Nor the next morning, for that matter.


	9. Classroom Cuteness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I brought my new kitten to school hold her please while I kick this guys ass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also posted on my tumblr: [fenfyre](http://fenfyre.tumblr.com/)

Jean Kirschtein had always seemed like the traditional loner, a little rough around the edges with his ripped jeans and heavy black boots, disinterested in just about everything that happened around him, always scribbling around in that beat-up notebook he carried everywhere.  
Marco had never spoken a word to him before, even though they had Maths and English together. He had wanted to more than a few times. Just get over there and ask what he was drawing. At least it looked like he was drawing most of the time. Maybe ask if he wanted to borrow Marco’s notes from the week he hadn’t been to class or if he’d like to get lunch together.  
But Marco got always distracted before he could follow through, be it by Connie, the teacher or his own thoughts.

It wasn’t exactly pity that made him think about befriending that curious boy time and time again.  
There was just something about him, about the way his eyebrows drew together when he chewed on his pen, how he never, not even on the hottest days, took off that leather jacket or how he gave the most clever, thought out answers to the teacher’s questions before huddling in on himself again … it just made Marco kind of sad that no one else seemed to notice him for these little things. So maybe it was some pity. And also a whole lot of incomprehension. Jean couldn’t be as brash and selfish and insensitive as everyone took him for. But maybe he was. Marco had never talked to him, after all.  
That changed the day Jean Kirschtein dumped a kitten into his lap without so much as a warning.

That Tuesday had started like any other, Biology in first, History in second and English in third period. Marco didn’t count on anything extraordinary happening today until he looked over at Jean. The boy sat there like he always did, bowed deeply over his desk, notebook open, but he wasn’t scribbling.  
Marco blinked, he shook his head, the image didn’t change. There on Jean’s desk lay a tiny, fuzzy animal. It looked like a bunny or a kitten or maybe a really fluffy little puppy and it was breathing softly, deeply like it was asleep in the middle of class.  
Jean was petting it softly with a single finger, so very carefully, expression as tender as Marco had ever seen it. He scooped the animal up after a while and it made a teeny little disgruntled noise at the disturbance before coiling up in Jean’s palm.

Marco couldn’t help the whimper that left him at that adorable image, one hand clasping over his mouth but he wasn’t quick enough. The only one who noticed, though, was Jean. He looked up at Marco, face still calm and soft as he slowly raised an eyebrow.  
Marco could only shrug and point at the ball of fluff in Jean’s hand, trying to convey with his eyes to what degree his poor heart just melted. The other boy smiled and winked, cradling the tiny thing closer to his chest with one hand, picking up his pencil with the other.  
For the rest of class he seemed to draw with easy, confident strokes, never setting down the sleeping animal.  
When the bell finally rang the class cleared rather quickly, only a few students staying behind to go over some work again or chat. Jean was one of them, even though he didn’t talk to anyone but took his sweet time putting away his books instead. It looked rather difficult with just one hand.

And on that Tuesday just after third period, Marco made true on his promise to himself and talked to Jean Kirschtein for the very first time.  
“Uhm hello … J-jean, right? Hi. I’m Marco.” Well, that could’ve gone smoother. Jean looked up just as he was about to throw his backpack over his shoulder, left hand still held up to his chest.  
“Yeah, I know.” Silence settled in between them then. Words. Marco should produce words. By talking.

“Is … is that a cat?”, he asked, pointing toward the fluff peeking from between Jean’s long fingers. The other boy looked down as if to check.  
“Uh, yeah. She’s mine. You…” Jean looked around quickly before turning back to Marco. “You can hold her, if you wanna.”  
“Oh my … really? That’d be…”  
“Yeah, just … let’s get out of here first, okay?”  
Marco followed Jean out of the classroom and down the hall without asking any questions, even though there were at least some popping into his mind when they finally reached the yard out in the back.

“Jean? What are we…?”  
“Okay here, hold her real quick. I’ll be back in a few.” With those words he let the kitten tumble into Marco’s hands before swiveling around and stomping off toward a shorter kid. “Hey! Jäger!”  
Oh no … oh this was another one of their ridiculous fights and Marco had just been made an accomplice and…

Before he could think about that any more or watch the situation that was surely about to escalate, a wiggling in his hands drew all of his attention.  
The kitten slowly blinking awake was indeed the tiniest thing he had ever seen, let alone held in his very own hands. It fit easily into his open palm, even when it was stretching like this. It’s fur was completely white except for one black ear and it soon raised it’s little head to look at him with pale blue eyes. It had to be barely a few weeks old!  
He felt the weak, curious purr more than he heard it before the thing clawed at his sleeve and honestly tried to climb him.  
Marco plucked the kitten from his arm before it could hurt itself and cradled it to his chest with both hands. The wiggling didn’t stop and the teeny tiny licks against his fingers made him giggle. When little pricks from sharp teeth joined them he opened his hands again. He didn’t want to scare it, he wanted to keep it safe until Jean…

Marco looked up to see the two boys squabbling like they did so often, surrounded by a some of their classmates cheering them on. He sighed, made sure the kitten was safe in the cage of his hands and took a few steps towards the pair.  
Jean had a tight grip on Eren’s collar who, in turn, tried to kick him in the shin or something, Marco didn’t want to know.  
“Hey, guys. Cut it out!”, he yelled. No reaction. They probably didn’t hear over the others shouting their support. “Guys!” He tried again, this time a little louder. It didn’t work. At all.  
But it turned out that it didn’t have to. Not when Mikasa stepped in a moment later and freed her brother from Jean’s grip with ease. She shot both of them an icy glare before dragging Eren away from the group, ignoring his whines about how he didn’t start it this time, honestly Mikasa!

Jean growled, a sound from deep in his throat, then spit on the floor.  
“Fucking Jäger…”, he grumbled before looking up to find Marco standing there. “Ahh, thanks man!”, he said, holding his hands out. Marco hugged the kitten one last time before handing it over again. Now it was wiggling around just as badly in Jean’s hands as it had been minutes before in his. “There’s my little princess…”  
Marco wasn’t sure he just heard that right. He decided to ignore it.  
“Ahh, sorry about that. Jäger was talking shit again. Can’t let that dude talk shit, you know?”  
“Uhh…” Marco didn’t really know how to respond to that. He didn’t condone their fights at all but he also didn’t know what happened all the time to make them as pissed at each other.

“Anyway, thanks. You up for lunch or anything?” That was … unexpected. “You can hold her again if you wanna. She didn’t scratch your face to shreds. I take it she likes you then…”  
“Uh, sure. I mean … lunch sounds great”, Marco managed at last and they headed off towards the cafeteria together.  
This day might be the first he talked to Jean Kirschtein. But it sure wasn’t the last.


	10. Test Theory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> „Some variation of ‘I have to photograph someone for class, will you be my model?'“ - now in psych student and intelligence test flavor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also posted on my tumblr: [fenfyre](http://fenfyre.tumblr.com/)

“I know it’s pretty personal and stuff and it’ll take us a while, about ninety minutes, I guess? So it’s totally okay if you don’t want to. I’ll just ask my mom or something, don’t feel like you have to – ”  
“I’ll do it.” The answer was accompanied by an easy shrug and so soft that Jean almost didn’t catch it.  
He hadn’t expected Marco to just agree to this as quickly. To be honest, he hadn’t expected his friend to agree at all. Most of his non-psych friends were too scared to let him run any tests at all, even though they knew he needed the practice to pass some of his classes.  
He’d never asked Marco before, though. Marco was literature and philosophy, not psych. He should be scared of the witchcraft that was performance and personality tests, he shouldn’t want Jean in his head. Or something like that.

“Uh, you sure? I know it’s much to ask and I understand if you don’t want me to … know … stuff?”, Jean mumbled, taken aback by the sudden compliance he’d never gotten quite as easy.  
Fingers sifting absentmindedly through the manual on his desk he looked over at Marco who was sitting on the bed, all casual and relaxed with his legs crossed as he smiled and shook his head.

“It’s not much to ask, Jean. We’re friends, I don’t mind helping you.” He shrugged again, leaning forward to place his elbows on his knees. After a short minute of contemplation he added:  
“And this isn’t about my score anyway, right? It’s about you learning how to run the test, the results don’t even matter.”  
Jean’s heart gave a traitorous little flutter at that.  
Nobody had ever gotten that concept as quickly as Marco did and he hadn’t even needed the lengthy explanation that usually went with the question in the first place.  
But this wasn’t the time for his stupid feeling to flare up again. Jean knew very well he’d have to deal with those someday but as long as shoving them back down and away worked, he didn’t have to.

“Yeah, yes exactly!”, he agreed instead, a slow grin spreading across his face as he stood and walked over to a corner of his room.  
“Thanks, man. I got the testbox here, we can get started right now, if you wanna.” He opened a small silver case to retrieve some booklets and sheets, thumbing through them to make sure he had everything they’d need. Somewhere behind him Marco hummed a soft “Sure…” and he could hear his friend move to sit at the desk.  
“Okay, so we’re gonna do the WAIS-IV, that’s a standard intelligence scale for adults. They give those tests stupid acronyms so you can’t guess what’s expected of you just by the name”, Jean set to explain after he’d gathered all the material he’d be using. When he turned to find Marco sifting through the manual on the desk he took a few quick steps forward to snatch it away from his friend.  
“And that’s mine, you cheater.”

“I thought my results didn’t matter?”, came the reply, accompanied by a charming smile that had Jean swallowing. Not now.  
“Yeah. But the supervisor shouldn’t let the subject read the manual…” Marco laughed at that, high and pure, his eyes crinkling up a little and Jean was standing way too close. He took a step to the side and slid up to sit on the desk.  
“Go on then, supervisor Jean.” Oh, this shouldn’t have sounded so hot. Jean concentrated on nodding and continued his explanation, showing Marco the material as he went.

“Okay, so the test is divided into two sub scales. Verbal and performance IQ with a test booklet for each. Verbal comprehension and working memory are parts of the verbal scale, perception and processing speed are performance.”  
“So it’s four scales?”, Marco asked, looking at the examples Jean pointed at.  
“Uh … we have one major IQ scale, then the two sub scales and four … sub-sub scales? So uh, I guess? And for every sub-sub scale there are some different types of tests…”

“Sounds complicated. You sure you’re supposed to tell me that?” Jean paused at that. Was he? He turned to the manual, searching through it for a while but didn’t find anything about it in detail.  
“I … I don’t know…” Marco laughed again at that, all high and beautiful, it made Jean’s heart throb painfully for a few seconds.  
“Let’s just start, okay?”

 

Two and a half hours later Jean was still slaving at the desk, checking the scores again and again while Marco was spread over his bed behind him with a book.  
He could have done the evaluation later that evening when Marco was gone but they both wanted to know whether their work had paid off or not and so he’d started right away. Even though by now it looked like there was something terribly wrong with the results.

“Okay I checked this four times over. But there’s just no way you’re scoring a 141. That’s almost three standard deviations above average, that’s in the top one percent, maybe even less…”  
Marco giggled behind him, rolling onto his side and propping his head up with his hand.  
“Maybe I’m just that smart?”, he suggested, sounding way too amused. Like this didn’t concern him at all.  
“Marco, 141 isn’t just smart. More like highly intelligent. So maybe you’re a genius or – and I’m sorry but that’s just more likely – I fucked up. I mean even if I take the confidence interval into consideration that’s still pretty damn high and this test is usually very selective in the higher ranges. I mean, it’s used to diagnose…”

“Jean”, Marco’s voice was kind but firm and very effective in stopping his rambling. “Does it matter? I’ve never taken a test like this so I can’t give you a second opinion. But this was your first time with this test, you don’t have to do it perfectly just yet. Your professor will understand if the results sound unlikely. What matters is that you did it and you have at least some experience now.”  
As much as Jean didn’t want to admit his defeat in this matter, Marco was right. He still felt bad about not being able to give Marco actual feedback, but that feeling passed as he looked up again, really taking in the way his friend was spread across his bed this time. The way he practically draped himself, elegant and relaxed, t-shirt sliding up to reveal a sliver of tan skin…  
“So don’t overthink it, you did your best. And now come here.”

“…what?” Marco did not just say that, did he? He did not just drawl those words in a husky voice, paired with that kind of smirk … Jean must have been imagining things.  
“Come here, I still owe you an ass kicking at Mario Kart, remember?” With that he grabbed one of the controllers from the ground and threw it over to Jean who caught it after some struggling. He really needed to get this sorted out. He was starting to see and hear things that weren’t there. And Jean would, sooner or later. But not now.  
Now was time for Mario Kart, time to forget about his embarrassing failure at giving simple instructions. And if he scooted a little closer to Marco than usual, his friend didn’t say anything about it.


	11. Camping Crisis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> idk you but i also know nothing about camping and ur the only other person i’ve seen here will you help me i think i heard a bear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also posted on my tumblr: [fenfyre](http://fenfyre.tumblr.com/)

‘Let’s do something fun before college’ Sasha had said. 'Let’s just throw a tent into the car and drive off’ she’d said. 'Oh sorry, I changed my mind, I’m gonna stay here with Connie all summer sucking face’ she hadn’t actually said but she could as well have.  
Jean hadn’t planned the whole trip and gotten together all the supplies just to back out again, though. Considering Sasha was the one with years of camping experience that might not have been his smartest decision. He told himself he’d grow with the challenge. About a week into the trip Jean was forced to reconsider.

They hadn’t wanted to plan the whole route through Italy, just some major cities they wanted to visit sometime along the way, like Florence, Rome and Venice. Jean had passed the border some days ago, the way from Marseille over wasn’t a long one, he was now somewhere behind Genoa and headed roughly south.  
Navigating the narrow mountain paths and unfamiliar terrain would have been much easier with a co-pilot but he knew how to read maps, even though this whole tour took him longer if he had to stop ever so often to check where exactly he was. At least there was always some kind of campsite near the larger villages where he could stop for the night. He didn’t pack the tent for nothing, after all.  
As it wasn’t high season yet, those usually were pretty empty but Jean didn’t mind. He liked the quiet and that way no one saw him struggling with the still unfamiliar tent and strange cooking equipment.

He was pleased to find the campsite he stopped at this time around as empty as all the others had been.  
There was just one tent he passed, a dark green one with a tiny old car next to it. But Jean picked a spot at the outer edges of the site where he couldn’t see the other occupant and, more importantly, they couldn’t see him. He got into his nightly routine of wrestling his tent into an inhabitable shape and setting up his small table and camping stove.

By the time he was finished eating – mashed potatoes and beans, it would still take him some time to get used to that – it was dark already and the moon and stars had come twinkling into view across an almost cloudless sky. As much of a hassle as camping was, it was times like these that he came close to understanding Sasha’s enthusiastic love for the outdoors.  
And even though he made things work on his own, it was also times like these that he missed his friend. Peace and quiet was nice to recharge, to sort himself out and think about a few things.  
But this whole trip would still have been more enjoyable if Sasha had been there to share it with him. That was a tiny wish he’d felt tugging in his chest a few times already, a wish that only grew stronger when he heard some suspicious shuffling noises from the row of trees and bushes in his back.

Jean jumped to his feet, swiveled around but couldn’t make out anything in the dark. The shuffling continued and maybe it was nerves or his heart suddenly hammering in his ears but the noise seemed to come closer, now paired with a low grunt. Jean took a few careful steps back, thoughts racing.  
Whatever that thing was, it sounded big. Not like a bird hopping around in the leaves, birds should be asleep anyway, right? A mouse or rabbit? Too small. Also those didn’t grunt. A bear? God were there bears in northern Italy? Jean didn’t know, why didn’t he know stuff like that? Sasha would but Sasha was back in Marseille with Connie and let him drive off into death all on his own god if he survived this he’d kick her ass so hard she’d … another grunt, this time louder than the last sent Jean running in the opposite direction.  
Would there be someone at the reception at this time? There should be, but it wasn’t like business was booming right now. Maybe they took the night off, thinking that their two guests … right. There was this other person, the one with the green tent. Maybe they’d know how to get rid of bears.

Jean only slowed down when he had almost reached that other person’s spot. There was a small table in front of the tent now, a few lit candles scattered across it and throwing their flickering light into the night. At first Jean didn’t see anyone, carefully stepping closer until he could make out a figure lying in the grass somewhere between table and car. Another victim of the bear?  
“H-hello…?”, he tried. “Are you … are you okay?” His English was kind of rusty but would probably get him farther than French. Hearing his words the person sat up, face coming up into the candle light. It was a boy about Jean’s age with a tired but kind smile and hair that would have seemed black if not for the warm, brown shine the fire painted into it.

“Yes. Yes, of course”, his pronunciation sounded way better than Jean’s, even though there was a subtle roll to the syllables. When Jean didn’t speak up again he slowly came to stand, ruffling his hair with both hands and stepping forward.  
“Can I help you?” With his eyebrows raised like that his eyes seemed so dark and huge Jean feared he might get lost in them if he looked at the stranger any longer. So he blinked, lowering his gaze to the grass beneath their feet, ignoring the chill racing down his spine.  
“I uh … yes. D-do you know if there’s bears around?”

“Bears?” The stranger sounded surprised, then let out an amused laugh that was dark and smooth and made Jean blink up at him again. Damn, he was gorgeous when he laughed. The light really complimented his strong features. “No, there are no bears here. Did you see something?”  
“I heard…” Some shuffling and a few grunts. Really dangerous. Jean felt like an idiot. If Sasha were here she’d laugh her ass off. Maybe it was better she wasn’t. “Nevermind.” He turned to walk away but the stranger spoke again.  
“No, no! It’s okay. This your first time camping?” Well, Jean had camped a few times when he was younger but this was the first time he was really on his own. Was it that obvious?”

“Yes…”, he mumbled without turning around. He could hear the stranger step away from him and towards the car, opening a door. That made Jean look again.  
The man was retrieving something but the candles weren’t enough to show what it was.  
“Could be a badger, there are some around here. They go looking for food at night, you know?” Jean made a noncommittal hum, watching as the stranger set up two chair next to the table.  
“You wanna leave early tomorrow?” Jean needed a moment to get what he meant by that before he could answer.  
“No, I want to stay another day. Go to the village for … supplies?” At that the other man smiled at him, so bright and dazzlingly handsome that Jean could feel the blood rushing to his face. He prayed for the darkness to be enough to cover him.

“Hey, me too! We could go together?” Jean’s answer was almost a reflex, uttered without further thought.  
“Sure…” Maybe some company would be good for him after a week of loneliness. Especially if his companion would be as pretty as this one and now rewarded him with an even brighter smile.  
“Come sit with me for a while?” It was a question, a friendly offer, and Jean couldn’t bring himself to say no when his host tapped one of the folding chairs invitingly, blinking at him with those long, dark lashes. Then he held out one of his hands, it looked broad and strong, felt warm and slightly calloused when Jean grasped it.

“I’m Marco”, the boy smiled and something about all this soothed an ache in Jean’s chest he hadn’t even known was there. Returning the smile was unusually easy.  
“Jean.”


End file.
